A life, in pictures
by HaloNoir
Summary: "Harry turned to the wall behind him and heard his own breath wheeze out. There were dozens of pictures, maybe more than a hundred. All had his friends in: a life, in pictures."  Harry revisits the lives of two dear friends, in peacetime after a long war.
1. A life, in pictures

**AN: It's been a _really _ long time since I was supposed to have finished this, but I'm back! Better to turn up late to the party, than not at all, right? Right? I have about six new chapters written and I fully intend for this to be finished _relatively_ soon. Firstly, I'm going through the chapters that are up and just tidying them up a bit. New chapter will be up tomorrow night, I think. Please keep R and Ring!**

* * *

It had been a few months, since it had happened, but Harry hadn't the heart to come before now, still didn't, if he was honest. As the door swung open he saw the dust swirl into the air. The smell of Chanel No. 5, a muggle perfume she'd loved, and some nameless cologne still lingered. They could just have been away, under some foreign sun. Maybe they were.

Now that Harry was there, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He brushed his hand against the banister, swiping away a film of dust – he regretted it, leaving any trace of his own presence here. Damage done, he ascended the stairs, ignoring the kitchen, which had been the heart of this home. He opened the first door that he came too, barely remembering the layout.

It was their library. He had always laughed at this room: if there had ever been two people destined to have a home library, it was these two. The room wasn't big, cosy really, shelves on two walls, covered in books. More books than most would read in a lifetime, but Harry knew her too well – there would be a trunk somewhere full of _reducio_-ed books. The third wall, to his left contained a small fireplace and two large windows, through which he could see the autumnal sunset. He turned to see the wall behind him and heard his own breath wheeze out. On the last wall were dozens of pictures, maybe more than a hundred. All were slightly haphazardly displayed, some in old ornate frames, others simply planted with sticking charms and some framed by painted pasta and something that looked like colourful fizzing whizbees. Some of the photos moved, others stood eerily still. Every single one had his friends in: a life, in pictures.


	2. On the outside, looking in, Summer 1995

The pictures in here seemed to be the only things in their home that wasn't oily with dust. Hermione must have charmed them, Harry thought to himself. They were arranged in a near perfect chronological order. Those on the far left of the wall were pictures of the two of them, when they were young. Amongst the still pictures of a gap toothed girl and the lone picture of a lean, rather forlorn looking boy were pictures infinitely familiar - because he had been there, remembered the time when she had realised, as the camera went, that she was sitting in Droobles gum, her brow crumpling with annoyance and he and Ron collapsing in fits of giggles. They were still laughing in the photo.

Others were less familiar, but still dear to his heart. The colours of these were less vivid, not quite faded, but shallower somehow. There was the red hair of his mother, he found his fingers tracing over it, no less longingly than when he had been eleven years old in front of the Mirror of Erised. His father stood, arms slung around his mates, much as his son had done with Hermione and Ron, though, Harry thought, he had never had had as much confidence as his father. They were all gone now. Marauders, we salute you, Harry thought mournfully.

The first picture in which they appeared together for the first time was at Grimmauld Place, the summer before Sirius had died. Some bright spark, though Harry couldn't remember who now, had insisted on taking a photo of the entire Order, plus Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys. Little did the senior members know how soon they would give way to the young ones.

Harry kneeled, barely able to keep a laugh in check, with Sirius, whose eyes twinkled knowingly. Behind and in-between them sat Hermione, ever more dignified on the table bench, shaking her head ruefully at their antics, smiling indulgently. Ron stood away at the back, with his brothers, all of who were intermittently shoving one another under the ever watchful but nonetheless proud Molly and Arthur Weasley. Dumbledore reigned in the middle. And then, there to the side, hands in his pockets and a small beatific smile for the rambunctious group with whom he'd thrown in his lot, was Remus Lupin.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – Summer 1995**

The was a spatter of laughter and groans as everyone tried to rub the spots of light from their eyes.

"I think you might have overestimated the flash, Sirius." Lupin chided, only half heartedly. There was a general murmur of agreement, but the culprit was already on his way, winking and joking with his godson and friends. The crowd dissipated, most moving over to the buffet table that Mrs Weasley had insisted on setting up.

Remus stood a moment longer, watching the younger ones – he included Sirius in this number, if in spirit rather than body. Harry's eyes were sparkling as he told his father's friend some joke he'd clearly been saving up, Ron and his twin brothers listened, and laughed, Remus suspected: indulgently. It was hard to believe they were on the brink of war.

Remus heard a slight snort of laughter and it was only then that he realised that Hermione was by his side, arms crossed but eyes soft with affection for her friends. Hermione had been watching them as he had.

"Why don't you join them?" Remus asked, nodding his head over to the group. He expected her to be shy, perhaps embarrassed by his question, but she looked back at him levelly.

"Why don't you?" was the reply. Remus wanted to retort that it was because he was older – but that was flimsy and blatantly untrue.

"Touché." She smiled and he smiled with her, before they looked back towards their young friends. Just a little on the outside, looking in.


	3. Breaking Ron, Summer 1999

There was a photograph with Hermione, Harry and Ginny in – it was notable only for the exception of Ron. The photo had been taken six months into the hunt for the horcruxes, at Grimmauld Place. It was after they had tracked down the blasted locket round the neck of Dolores Umbridge. They had finally managed to catch up with her, at her beloved cat's groomers. He still smiled with fondness at the ingenious method of disposal Hermione had come up with for the hated witch: they'd portkeyed her into the middle of the Amazon. Harry didn't think she'd have much liked the cats she'd found there.

Ron was missing, because the photo had been taken shortly after his break-up from Hermione, though they had never really been together. They'd had one moment, a rather sweet one, something to do with house elves, Harry reckoned. That had been it. Just days later, she had taken Ron aside. Poor Ron. Hermione had insisted on putting the relationship aside, at least until the war was done. Little did either of them know, Ron would never get another look in.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – Summer 1999**

"Ron?" Hermione called the red headed boy, engrossed in a game of chess with Harry by the fire in the drawing room. His head snapped up and that broad smile lit up his features. Hermione felt a stab of remorse for what she was about to inflict.

"Can I talk to you? Outside?" His smile only got broader: like a lamb to the slaughter, he loped after her, as she trudged downstairs and out of the screen doors in the kitchen. The warm sunshine on her face did nothing to lift her spirit.

"So what did you want to," he smiled cheekily as he placed his large hands on her waist, "talk about?" He was all smiles, freckles and innocence. It broke her heart.

"We need to talk." The happiness seemed to slide off of his features.

"I'm sorry, Ron." She plucked his hands off of her, lest he should try to hold on, "I don't think we should be doing this. Especially not now, what with everything going on I– we – need to focus." His brow fell, confusion or hurt – which, she didn't know.

He tried to protest, argued that wasn't "love what we're fighting for". She put him down; they had to think of the future of all above their own. He ran out of things to say and so they stood there in uneasy silence, two friends who hardly knew each other.

If there was one thing she was good at, it was a well reasoned argument.


	4. Catharsis, Autumn 1999

There were several pictures of the two of them in the library at Grimmauld Place. The first showed the subtly moving figures sat in the armchairs around the fireplace in the drawing room, which doubled as a library. Both were armed with glasses of wine and books on their lap, though neither seemed to be reading. The figures in the photo were both engaged in what looked like a serious discussion, punctuated by earnest smiles and glances over to the camera. Harry though he might have taken this one, remembered teasing them both over their attachment to the library, remembered wanting a keepsake of it. He was a regular Colin Creevey, Harry thought.

He gathered that a lot of important memories had taken place there, in Number 12, a place that he had no real fond attachment to, but to these two, had been everything.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – Autumn 1999**

Hermione was just filling up her second glass of wine when Remus slunk in – and it could only be called slinking. The door closed with a barely audible click and he dropped down into the armchair to her right, letting out a long held 'oof' as he landed. She looked at him across the brim of her glass of Beaujolais, one of the many bottles of wine she'd received for her 20th birthday.

"Everything alright?" she asked, not really expecting an honest answer.

"Fine, fine." He replied, pulling a book out from the side of the seat, where he'd left it last. Hermione turned back to her book and they both began to read, in companionable silence.

Hogwarts A History was just getting into one of her favourite bits, the chapter on the Triwizard Tournament, when Remus shut his book with a loud snap.

"You know what?" He asked, stuffing his book back in the crevice, and summoning up a wine glass, before pulling the bottle off the coffee table, "Everything's not alright. I'm fed up with everyone passing judgement on my private life, looking down their noses at me. It's my life." He ranted, while Hermione closed her book quietly. When he finally finished he seemed to deflate somewhat.

"Been holding onto that for a while, have you?" She teased him lightly and he smiled sheepishly, looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… unloaded like that on you. It isn't fair." Hermione waved him off.

"Quite fine, don't worry about it. I consider you a friend, Remus, and for what it's worth: I don't judge you. Nor do I think you made a mistake, so long as you don't."

"Really?"

"Really. Remember," she broke eye contact to look at the wine that swirled in the glass, "I've been there too. Molly still won't look me straight in the eye. No, I think the only people who know whether or not you and Tonks are meant to be are, in fact, you and Tonks." She swigged a large gulp, felt the wine burn. His hand was hot on her wrist as he patted it supportively. She found it distracting.

"So…" he trailed off, she knew what he wanted to ask even before he found the words, "whatever did happen with you and Ron?"

She was about to give him the usual spiel: they were friends, maybe they could be more, but not now, not when she had to focus on finding the horcruxes, not when everything was at stake. But his hand was still on her wrist and the wine was in her head and suddenly she was rambling, as he had. She barely heard her own words.

"…and what relationship can possibly stand the weight of eight years of expectations?" He smiled, sympathetic.

"Plus," she bit her lip, hardly believing she was admitting this to anyone, least of all herself, "I don't love him. I mean, I do. But not like that. God, I can't even imagine him in that light. He's sweet but I can't even picture having sex-" Hermione suddenly realised how much she was giving away and slapped her hand over her mouth, aghast. She had definitely drunk that wine too fast.  
The look on Remus' face was so startled, despite his best attempts to mask it, that she couldn't help but burst into laughter. The first time she had laughed in a long while. Remus joined in readily, he needed this too.

His hand was still on her wrist.


	5. Things that go bump in the night, 1999

The next two photos were muggle ones, eerie in their stillness, Harry thought. Hermione had always, despite her profound love of magic, preferred them. She had told him once that a well taken still photograph could convey much more sentiment than a moving one ever could. There was a certain poetry to the idea of a single moment frozen forever in time, Harry mused, though he still wasn't quite sure he agreed.

One of the photos was Lupin, reclining in the right hand armchair, as always, leg crossed and book balanced on his knee. He wasn't looking at the book, rather he was looking over the top of the book, regarding the photographer with a mixture of affection and amused suspicion. Hermione must have taken it, Harry realised.

The second photo, taken with what Harry could only assume was the same camera showed Hermione, though not as he had often seen her. Her hair was mussed, as it most often was, falling in waves around her face. She was sitting sideways in the chair, bare legs stretched out across one of the arms, seeming to last forever before reaching the skirt that pooled on her upper thighs. She was smiling at the camera, looking embarrassed by the whole situation, but still she smiled at the photographer.

Somewhere between these photos and the one he had taken, something had changed irrevocably. The difference in the characters portrayed in the pictures was subtle, yet profound. Only a close friend would have noticed. It made Harry sad to think that he had never noticed these photos before, never taken the time to.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – November 1999**

After the first night of wine and unburdening themselves had been so cathartic, Hermione and Remus quickly settled into a routine: she would arrive at the library after dinner and read up on horcrux materials, not that were a great deal to be found, after this Remus would typically pitch up, bottle of wine in hand (once they had finished her birthday stock) and they would proceed to spend the evening drinking it, however long it took.

Every night there was a different topic of discussion, the most recent had been on when Harry and Ginny might finally realise they were made for each other and seize the day. The hypocrisy of their criticisms did not escape them, but they were each complicit in the other's denial. They talked occasionally of Tonks and Ron too, though never meanly, just expressing the desire that their respective counterparts would cut their losses. It had taken Tonks two months to sign the separation papers. Ron was getting better, but still occasionally looked at Hermione as though he was a puppy she had just kicked.

Their late night ritual seemed to have escaped notice in the house, though only Harry,Ron, Fred, George and Ginny were in residence at the moment, barring the near daily check-ins from Order members and Mrs Weasley's wizarding equivalent of meals on wheels.

There had been only the odd night when one hadn't made their appointment: Hermione had been away with Harry attempting to locate Hufflepuff's Cup for several days, to no avail, though she felt sure that she was closing in on it. Remus had missed two nights for his furry little problem and that had been it, until tonight.

Hermione sat alone in the library. It was nearly midnight and Remus had been on a mission for the Order, though he should have been home hours ago. She could feel the gnawing panic in her stomach and felt helpless. She had mentioned Remus' absence to Harry who had shown only mild concern, assuring her that his mentor could handle himself. It didn't make her feel any better.

Her back was beginning to ache from the chair and her head was beginning to nod, every blink seemed to lose her time. Not being able to face the thought of leaving the library, lest he should turn up, Hermione managed to drag herself to the sofa before she collapsed.

Hermione was roused by the sound of the door opening and was trying to formulate an excuse for having passed out in the library, her tongue uncooperative, before she saw it was _him_. The tightness in her stomach lifted and it suddenly she felt as though it was much easier to breathe. He was fine, safe, back, in the library where he belonged, with her.

Remus shuffled over to her, steps heavy with exhaustion and sat, somewhat gingerly, besides her, twisting to see her face.

"Sorry I'm late." He murmured, with only the slightest hint of irony. Hermione laughed, not joyously like the first night, but one of relief.

"You're forgiven," She propped herself up on her elbows, facing him, trying to make out the lines of his face in the gloom, "but where were you? Are you alright?" She reached a hand out to his face, resting the palm against his cheek, trying to ascertain the damage. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Quite alright, now."

"I worried."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be." Hermione cut him off before he could indulge in self pity. Her hand slid slightly further back, dipping into his hair. Suddenly everything shifted. Hermione swallowed thickly as his gaze intensified. Remus redistributed his weight as he slid an arm around her back and over her shoulders so the weight was off her arms. She was free to hold him, hands sliding around his neck. Her mouth found his in the darkness and she pressed herself into him. Remus let out a low moan before one arm was behind her, bracing their weight on the couch, and Hermione's hands were desperate, running over any surface of him they could find. He was kissing her hard, not gently like she'd imagined he might, but desperately.

She pulled at his shoulders and he rolled onto the couch, on top of her, knees between hers, forcing them apart. She needed air, but not as much as she needed this. She was fumbling at the buttons of his shirt but her fingers were altogether too slow for her liking and she felt the urge to hex his clothes off. Remus' hands were everywhere, her neck, her breasts, her legs.

Hermione gave up on his shirt; left half open, and moved her small hands down to his belt. He gave a guttural grunt.

"Hermione," he barely got the word out, but he needed to be sure, "are you quite certain that you-"

"I'm certain." She looked back at him with the same level stare she'd given him years ago. Hermione undid the belt and Remus felt the last of his resolve crack, fumbling up her thighs until he found the waistband of her knickers, tugging them down as fast as he could before losing patience and ripping them. He ignored the part of him that whispered that she deserved better, deserved more, while he gripped one of her knees, slinging her leg over his shoulder. Remus slid his fingers into her, hot and tight. The cry she let out was the best and worst thing he'd ever heard. The guilty voice was silenced, for now.

Hermione was keening beneath him, head thrown back and hands bunched in his shirt when they heard voices and laughter outside the library. The two froze utterly. It sounded like the Weasley twins. A moment passed, both looked at the door in dreadful anticipation before the voices passed by, the creaking of the stairs signalling their ascent.

For a moment Remus thought the spell had broken, and could hardly bring himself to look down at Hermione. When he did, he found her looking coyly up at him, laughter suppressed only by her having bit down on her, lovely, luscious, lower lip. She looked up at him through thick eyelashes and mad hair. She rocked herself against his fingers before she pulled his head down to her, she whispered in his ear.

"Remus, I want you inside of me."

Remus would never have dreamed that Hermione Granger would ever have looked at him like that.


	6. Drained, Winter 1999

Harry's eye skipped over the next column of photos, ones he had seen countless times before, those taken during their three year hunt for the horcruxes. There was another muggle photo, though, that Harry did not recognise. It was of Hermione and Remus sat on a swing set, surrounded by green grass and under a purple sky. They looked happy, but tired. Hermione was leaning heavily against the chain of her swing, Harry suspected it was only Remus' arm around her shoulders that kept her from sliding off.

He realised what this must have been. The Trio had set off for Diagon Alley with the intent of raiding Gringotts for the Hufflepuff Cup – they'd been successful too, though it wasn't easy. Not by a longshot. As they were making their escape the Cloak had fallen off of them and they'd had to call for reinforcements. Most of the Order had descended, Remus Lupin and Kinglsey Shacklebolt leading the way.

* * *

**Diagon Alley – Winter 1999**

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione felt her wand fly from her fingertips before Bellatrix even finished her spell. Obscenities rather than anything useful filled Hermione's head, one or two may even have escaped her lips. Here she was in the most crowded skirmish she'd been involved in yet, and she was wandless. Bellatrix was wending towards her, shoving Death Eaters and Order members alike aside, hunting down her prey.

"The mudblood is mine!" The dark witch's shriek sliced through her and Hermione felt true terror seize her for the first time. There seemed to be nowhere to go, her back was to Ollivanders. Where were Harry and Ron – would they save her again? As Bellatrix raised her wand, Hermione thought of her friends, her parents who would never remember her and she thought of Remus.

"Incendio!" came a bellow to her left. Hermione opened her eyes and half expected to see flames engulf her but it was Bellatrix who was at the receiving end, flames lapping up her skirts. Remus was there, hand grasping hers and pulling her with him, back into the crowds, away from the wailing Black. There was no opportunity to speak, Remus was charging ahead, blasting a path for them. She hoped they were working their way to Harry.

Suddenly despair fell over her, so hard and fast that she nearly dropped to her knees. She saw Remus buckle ahead of her. It was pointless, Hermione realised, they could never win against the might of Voldemort. There would be no happy ever after for them, their friends had died in vain. She would never see Remus unburdened of his troubles, never live without fear. All was lost.

The shadows passed over her and it took a moment, in her gloom, to realise what they were. Dementors. Even knowing they were there didn't seem to shake the thoughts in her head, couldn't detach them from her. She stumbled into Lupin who wrapped an arm around her, nearly crushing her to his chest. She heard him speaking, quietly, the same two words over and over again: "expecto patronum, expecto patronum, expecto patronum…" his wand was raised over his head but nothing was happening. Hermione had never seen so many dementors. They seemed, she thought, to block out the sun.

"Hermione, help me, think of your happiest memory…" Hermione squeezed shut her eyes, trying to remember, to escape the darkness and the spells whizzing overhead. She had it. She was playing with her cousins under the warm sun, outside a family home in Bermuda, a dog running around dementedly and she hadn't a care in the world. A world without magic. She felt a tug at her navel and felt herself being pulled off her feet, twisting away in the darkness.

She landed heavily and it was only as she pitched towards the ground she realised Remus was still clutching onto her. But instead of the hard cobbles they braced themselves for they found their hands clutching at crab grass in bright sunshine.

"Oh, my God…" Hermione said, barely louder than a whisper, looking at the house in front of them, "Oh, my God."

Remus was in a complete state of bewilderment, how on earth, he wondered, had they gotten here. For wherever here was: it was not England. There were palm trees blowing in the breeze, the air was warm and he could smell the sea, wolf senses aside.

"Hermione, where the _hell_ are we?"

"We can't possibly be- I mean it makes no sense, whatsoever, particularly without-"

"Hermione!"

"We're in Bermuda, Remus. This is my grandparent's home. Well, it's mine. They left it to me." She replied as she picked herself off of the ground. She felt a little unsteady on her feet. The two of them stood facing the coral and white painted house, boards across the shuttered windows and the cedar door.

A little while later, Remus was in the process of trying to blast off the planks of wood barricading the door, while Hermione watched, mournfully missing her own wand which was presumably still in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione felt a sudden dreadful weariness, not a typical tiredness but something that tickled along her spine, like an itch she couldn't scratch. Remus finally got the door open and she was too happy to show him the way to the sofa.

The two collapsed next to each other, not exactly shying away from each other but not so comfortable as they usually were. They returned to trying to figure out what had happened, Remus quizzed her.

"What were you thinking of, before we arrived here?" She laughed internally; he made it sound like a train journey.

"I was thinking of my happiest memories, like you told me to."

"And they were here?"

"Of course they were, Remus. This is where I spent most of my childhood summers. Where I watched my family grow up. Before my world got complicated."

There was a long silence where both tried to figure out how to repair the conversation.

"I didn't know you had family here."

"No one does, not even Harry or Ron." Hermione felt herself begin to relax again in his company, "I suppose my family, and my childhood always seemed less interesting than Harry's and Ron's. Harry's was nightmarish, Ron's idyllic and mine was ordinary. My mother was-is Bermudian."

Remus took her hand, "You must miss her very much."

"I do." She squeezed his hand, "But now, for the grand tour!" She made as to stand up but felt her legs buckle – Remus caught her before she could even stagger. That niggling exhaustion seemed to be pulling on her now. She tried to explain to Remus, as she stood awkwardly in his arms, the sensation.

"I think you're drained," she was about to open his mouth when he explained, "of magic, Hermione. You managed to apparate two of us a huge distance, farther than any wizard I know, even Dumbledore, could have – and you did it without a wand. That requires a huge amount of energy; I'm surprised you can even stand." Hermione nodded, mutely. "Which way to the bedroom, hopefully you'll feel better with rest." She pointed the way feebly and he carried her bridal style to the nearest bedroom, the mattress was stripped bare but he didn't have the energy (or free hands) to transfigure any sheets. It was comfortable, it would do.

Lowering Hermione as gently as he could, Remus found her already asleep in his arms. Once she was down, he laid alongside her, wand clutched at the ready, as he prepared to keep watch. But sleep stole over him stealthier than he expected and his eyes closing to the sounds of the tree frog chorus starting up. Their hands were still entwined.


	7. Bermudian Sun, Winter 1999

**Bermuda – Winter 1999**

The two slept for hours, with no sunlight able to wake them through the thick shutters. Hermione woke first and turned her head towards Remus, who still slept. It occurred to her then that this was the first time they had woken up together or, for that matter, slept (in the most literal sense of the word) together. Once or twice she had snuck into his room and crept out as soon as the deed was done, most times they had used the library. That's not to say their encounters weren't romantic, that wasn't the case, merely the result of two pragmatists colliding. Two hypocritical pragmatists who had abandoned those who'd loved them for the sake of focus in wartime.

Remus began to stir and caught her staring at him. He smiled lazily. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He bought her hand up for a tender but all too brief kiss.

"Remus," she bit her lower lip in that all too tantalising way, "what are we?" Remus blinked in confusion. Surely it was too early in the day to be having this conversation, he couldn't help but think.

"I assume you don't mean what we are as people?"

"No. Well, yes. But: as people, together." Hermione, uncharacteristically, stumbled over her words and it only served to endear her to him more. He had been wondering about this too. Wondering how long they could ignore their hypocrisy.

He sat up; clearly this was a conversation for sitting up. She followed suit and they sat facing each other, cross legged. They proved a very silly sight and the two of them would have appreciated it under any other circumstances.

"Well, what do you want us to be?"

"I-I, I don't know." She was getting flustered, that all too attractive blush creeping over her jawbone, distracting Remus from the task in hand, he was about to continue beating about the bush when she found her Gryffindor courage.

"Actually, that's wrong. I do know, only I'm afraid you won't feel the same," her eloquence returned, "I want more. 'Friends with benefits' is all well and good, but that's- that's not all I want. When you're out of sight, I wonder where you are, wonder how you're holding up, if you're thinking of me. When you're out, I worry, can't rest until I know you're safe. I throw myself into my research so, _so_ hard, so that Harry and Ginny and" she choked, "and Ron won't catch me looking at you on the other side of the room. You're in my head, Remus, and I'm not sure I ever want you to leave."

Remus was speechless, and that did not happen often. He was also more than a little touched. He felt her small hands grasping his tightly, as though afraid he would pull away – all his excuses melted away (). He couldn't do this to her. He couldn't do this to himself.

"Hermione," his voice was thick and he saw her tense, her irises constrict: fear. "I feel the same. You are far, _far_too good for me. But God help me that I am too selfish to let you go. I can't tell you that we're going to have some great future, I don't even know that we'll outlive the bloody year. But we can have each other, while we can, however long or short a time as that might be." Hermione's entire body slumped with relief, her iron grip subsided.

She gave him a small, conspiratorial smile. "You might not be able to tell me all those things, but I can. If we see this thing through, I promise you: we're going to change the world." The two leant forwards for the kiss. It wasn't particularly passionate, but it was safe, solid and entirely theirs. Remus' heart soared and, for the first time in nineteen years, he saw his future spread out before him, saw a world in which he earned his keep, surrounded by his new family and friends, saw Hermione smiling up at him: over a book; in a white gown. Remus saw children and grandchildren running on a lawn, and a life, growing old, by Hermione's side. He'd never thought to dream for old age before.

Back to pragmatism, leaving romance far behind, Hermione and Remus went outside, sitting on the porch steps and basking in the sun while they discussed what to do. Hermione still ached oddly and didn't feel up to any kind of magic, wandless or otherwise, and Remus was confident that he didn't have the power to apparate them both all those miles home. She revealed that she didn't know any wizards on the island, which was hardly surprising, considering her family were all muggles.

"So: no owls, no floo and no broomsticks." Remus summarised, not quite able to keep the frustration from his voice. Hermione couldn't help but be relieved that the latter was the case. She couldn't stomach a broomstick for five minutes let alone for more than three thousand miles.

"What about portkey?" She asked.

Remus shook his head, "I'm afraid that if I cast an unauthorised _portus_ charm the Death Eaters will be around our heads before we can go anywhere. Besides, I don't want them anywhere near your family." Hermione felt a little swell of affection for his protectiveness.

"Well, we'll have to take a plane. If I can get to a computer, I can book the tickets online." Remus looked utterly confuddled, Hermione couldn't help but laugh, stifling herself as best she could when she saw annoyance flicker across his features.

"I'm sorry. Which bit didn't you get."

Remus, to his credit, managed a wry smile, "None of it."

Hermione smiled at him and took his hand, leading him down the steps, "There's nothing for it then: you'll have to meet my family." She laughed as she pulled the slightly terrified looking man behind her, towards the lane, "Honestly. You looked less afraid when you set Bellatrix on fire."

After a few minutes of walking they arrived at another house, painted white this time with teal shutters and windows. There was a long walk to the front door and Hermione felt the sweat on Remus' hands. Once they were at the door she knocked, before Remus could protest. There was a friendly call from inside the house. When the door swung open there was an open faced and smiling woman standing in the doorway, apron on and bowl in hand.

"Hermione?" The bowl slipped from the woman's hand and it was only Remus' lupine reflexes that saved it from smashing on the doorstep.

"Aunt Jane!" Hermione was hugging the woman hard and receiving back in kind, "It's so good to see you."

"You too, but what on earth are you doing here?" Jane replied, pulling back and studying her niece's face, finding dirt and premature lines. She ushered them into the house before waiting for a reply, before she had even taken in Remus. She was slightly taken aback when he handed her back her bowl, as though she hadn't seen him before. "And who is this?"

"This is Remus, he's… a good friend of mine. We're not supposed to be here, it was," Hermione bit her lip, and cast a guilty look to Remus, "an accident." Jane's eyebrow shot up and suddenly Remus saw the family resemblance. There were the mutual overactive eyebrows, the same hourglass figure and the same small, full lips.

"Is this, ahem," Jane looked over to him, and Hermione nodded, "magic related?" her mouth seemed to struggle to form the 'm' word.

"It is, but I can't go into it. You know I can't" Jane looked unimpressed.

"What do you need?"

"Just the computer, just for a minute." With that Hermione strode off and Remus was left standing in the foyer with Jane. He smiled awkwardly at her before she walked off, gesturing that he could follow.

Jane led him into a bright kitchen. It wasn't big, but it felt homey. There was something in the oven, the wolf senses kicked in, he picked up powdered sugar and chocolate. Remus' stomach suddenly gave a lurch and he was sure that even Jane's ears picked up the growl of his stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the past day, food hadn't even occurred to him until now.

"Here," Jane offered him a plate of the cookies which must have been part of an earlier batch, "they're chocolate crinkle cookies. You like chocolate, I hope?"

Remus laughed, "You have no idea." He told her as he sat at the counter, tucking in. They were incredible, and he told her as much. He watched her while she worked; he wondered if Hermione would look like her in thirty years. He would be a lucky man if she did. If he lived to see it. If she did.

He knew the questions were coming, braced himself. Hermione should not have told her family about the wizarding world, and he would not compound her mistake.

"Remus, I know you don't want to tell me anything, but please, I need to know. I don't know what's happened to her parents, she won't tell me. Is she," Jane placed her hand pleadingly on his, "is Hermione in danger?"

Once again Remus felt his resolve wane – there must be something to these Granger girls.

"I shouldn't tell you what she doesn't want you to know."

"Should I worry?" She asked so plainly, and so clearly out of genuine love for Hermione that Remus couldn't contain himself.

"There's a war going on, for our kind. Someone very dear to Hermione is at the centre of it and she's certainly in the fray. You should be very," he ducked into her eye contact to make her believe him, "_very_ proud of her. She's the brightest witch I've ever known."

Jane nodded, tears in her eyes, "Will she get hurt?"

"Not if I have any say in the matter. I would sooner die." She watched him before seeming to make up her mind about something.

"Remus, I don't know what's going on with you two, but I'm going to have to trust that you want the best for her. Promise me you'll protect her. Bring her home, safe." Jane squeezed his hand hard before she turned away. The oven pinged and the moment was gone, Jane was dry eyed and all business.

Hermione entered the kitchen and stole a cookie off of Remus' plate.

"We're on the eight o' clock plane tonight. We'll be back in London tomorrow morning. Do you mind, Jane, if we hang around here until then?" She asked.

"Not at all."

That was how they found themselves sitting outside all day, enjoying the sunshine while they could. They traipsed down to the dock and dangled their toes in the water. They talked and laughed, fattened themselves up on cookies and rum cake and, when far from Aunt Jane's eyeline, they kissed under the Bermudian sun. They ignored all responsibilities, ignored the guilt of having left their friends many miles behind, with no word to let them know they were safe.

The time came to leave, but not before Jane had plied them with baked goods, 'for the road', and asked for the two to sit a moment while she fetched her camera. Remus knew she wanted a memento, _just in case_. They waited on the swings. The sky was beginning to get dark now. Hermione sagged against him, on her swing and he slung an arm around to stop her from falling.

"I used to come out here all the time. I could swing higher than any of my cousins. I thought it was skill, longer legs or something, refused to believe it was anything else. I think it was magic now. My life's all been a little bit backwards. Sums up my life, in a way, doesn't it?"


	8. Grief and Guilt, Winter 1999

There was no picture for what Harry knew had happened next. Didn't need a photo to refresh his memory, he still could see it as clear as day.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – Winter 1999**

Once the plane had landed, the two of them snuck off to a bathroom to apparate away, not bothering with customs (despite Hermione's fears that they would spark a muggle terror alert). They apparated straight to Grimmauld Place, stumbling into the foyer. The first thing the two of them noticed was the silence which hung oppressively. Someone had propped the troll's foot against Mrs Black's curtains, pinning them in place temporarily. Hermione grabbed for Remus' hand, forgetting the decision they had made to keep their relationship from the others.

Remus kept his wand out as he walked through to the living area, "Hello?" he called, ears nearly twitching. Hermione felt a nearly physical twinge of longing for her wand. There was a creak and Remus' grip on his wand tightened as he heard footsteps. The door swung open and his heart leapt into his mouth as he saw a figure standing there.

"Lupin! Hermione!" It was only Harry. Remus' heart was still pounding even as relief flooded through him. He dropped Hermione's hand. Harry stood in the doorway and he held the door open for them to pass. Everyone, it seemed, was there. There was something wrong, though. Hermione picked up on it as clearly as Remus did. Hermione wondered how long they had all been sitting there, waiting for them. She felt a pang of remorse for not having figured out a way to let them know they were safe before now.

Harry grabbed Hermione into a fierce hug before she could ask what was happening, he gabbled away in her ear about relief and worry and she knew something really awful must have happened. She looked over Harry's shoulder and was relieved to see Ron and Ginny sitting behind him. Remus too searched the faces of the room, at all the downwards peering faces, who was missing? Then it clicked.

"Dora," Remus felt his eyes close, knowing at once what had happened, "Where is Dora?" Harry was the only one who moved, he released Hermione and clasped Remus' arm.

"She died," Harry seemed to regret the blunt words he had used, but continued on, "I'm sorry, Lupin. She fell behind at Diagon Alley. Ron tried to go back for her but she hexed him back. We think she took loads of Death Eaters down with her, though." Harry was patting Remus' shoulder now, only slightly awkwardly, "She was so brave, Remus. If only you could have seen her." Harry seemed to be almost supporting Remus, whose face was ashen, eyes closed – he seemed as though he might keel over at any moment.

The room was still silent, eyes still averted from Remus. No one seemed to know how to act, or how to expect Remus to act – after all they had been separated for a good few months now. Hermione reached her hand out to touch Remus' arm, at a loss as to where she stood at this moment. Remus suddenly sprang into action, moving swiftly away from her. He was all wild eyes, and purpose, and with one last, apologetic look towards Hermione he announced: "I've got to go." And with a crack, he disapparated and Harry and Hermione were left holding air.

The mood of the Order was understandably grim but they managed to rouse themselves enough to ask Hermione where she had been and she explained as best she could without allowing it to sound as though she had enjoyed herself. She kept glancing towards the door, hoped that Remus would come back.

The Order cooed over Hermione's apparently '_fantastic_' apparition feat, but the only thing that lifted her from her misery was when Mrs Weasley, presented Hermione with her wand – she'd managed to give Bellatrix a few more things to think about, and had snagged Hermione's wand back in the meantime. Hermione couldn't seem to find the words to express her gratitude – bursting into tears had to suffice. With that Mrs Weasley did what she best and mothered Hermione into bed, along with a tray of lunch.

Hermione couldn't sleep, despite her exhaustion. Neither she or Remus had gotten any sleep on the flight, they were too wrapped up in themselves and not having to be furtive about their affections. The lack of sleep might also have had something to do with not being able to afford anything but economy seats. Hermione ended up resorting to comfort eating and calling for Crookshanks to come keep her company – though she barred any human company.

Hermione waited in the library that night for Remus, after Molly had finally allowed her out of bed, but he didn't turn up. He didn't the next four nights either. Hermione sat there with her books, though she knew she was nowhere near effective at researching at the moment.

By the fifth day of Remus' absence, Harry had noticed something was up, though he though he hadn't quite made out all the details. Harry was pretty sure Herione wasn't sleeping either. She claimed she was getting close to figuring out the last Horcrux's identity (Nagini aside) but he was sure she hadn't made any progress. Hermione was excited when she felt a break coming, at the moment she seemed defeated. It worried him. That night Harry resolved to keep her company, it was the least he could do, and he knew just where to find her.

Hermione was re-reading Hogwarts A History again, having abandoned the Beedle and the Bard earlier that night. She still couldn't, for the life of her, work out why Dumbledore had left it to her. She'd lost track of the number of times she had turned to her favourite book. She didn't know why she loved it so much, it wasn't even as though it could help her these days, now that they were out in the real world. But there was something comforting about the words, about knowing what the next page would contain.

The door clicked and Hermione thought briefly that she might have given herself whiplash, looking over to the door. Her heart sank, it was only Harry. Mentally she chided herself for ever reducing her best friend to 'just Harry'. She smiled at him to make up for her transgression. Harry smiled back and took it as an invitation to plop down in the chair next to her, Remus' chair.

"'Mione?" Harry's voice cut through her reverie and she felt another stab of guilt, when had she turned into such a shoddy friend, she wondered, "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, I guess I'm just distracted." It wasn't a lie, not in the least.

"I'm worried about you, Hermione, you've been off the last few days. And I think I know why." Hermione looked up at him through the hair that had fallen over one of her eyes, fear suddenly cut through the haze.

"I know you and Lupin are close, you probably got even closer with that nightmare apparition episode, but I promise you, he's going to be okay. He's just got to take some time." Hermione exhaled, he hadn't guessed then, not yet at least, "I think it's gonna take him a while to get over Tonks. She was the only woman who ever really loved him. That must be hard, plus he's got no real friends left now, apart from us." Hermione lurched from affection for her friend to wanting to punch his lights out in the space of five seconds, but managed to compose herself, a small smile plastered on her face while she nodded sagely.

"Thanks, Harry."

That first night that Harry sat with Hermione didn't go particularly well, and Harry would kick himself, years on, for his obtuseness. Harry persevered, though, and as the days passed the two settled into a routine and rediscovered their own company. Hermione even managed to draw him into a conversation about Ginny once or twice, conversations punctuated by blushing and boyish giggles that warmed Hermione's heart.

Harry, in return, managed to refocus on Hermione on the work at hand. Between them they decided that the last Horcrux had to be a relic to do with Rowena Ravenclaw. They had decided that Voldemort would have loved to have had a horcrux from each of the four founders but hadn't gotten his hands on Gryffindor's sword. They had no idea what of Ravenclaw's it was, but that decision seemed to lift a great weight from their shoulders. They would have to hit the books again, maybe ask any Ravenclaws that they knew.

Harry even worked up the courage, after ten days or so, to ask Hermione to come with him to his parents' grave. He knew Hermione wouldn't approve, but he also knew she would understand, and there was no one he trusted, at the moment, as much as her to accompany him. She agreed, though with reluctance. Knowing this was Harry, she knew how wrong things could go.

Two weeks passed before Hermione saw Remus again. She headed into the library after dinner one Wednesday in December, fully expecting her usual rendezvous with Harry and there Remus was, already sat in his chair, their bottle of wine on the table.

"Oh, thank God." She managed to get out before she slammed the door shut behind her, flying towards him. Remus smiled at her, and leant up to kiss her, rather more chastely than she'd have liked.

"What's wrong, Harry not been entertaining you enough?" He smirked and Hermione laughed at his omniscience.

"I missed you," she watched him as she poured out their wine, watched his movements for any sign that he had had a change of heart, "How are you?"

"I'm as good as can be under the circumstances," he handed Hermione her wine, fingers brushing over hers, seeming to reassure her. "And I'm sorry for running out on you like that. I really was unforgiveable. But I had things to do," he looked into the bottom of his glass, "amends to make."

"To her parents?"

He nodded, "Andromeda, any how. I've no idea where Ted is these days, hiding from the Snatchers I suppose."

Hermione felt she had nothing to say to that. She didn't know where she stood. She missed their easy conversations from before. So she drank her wine instead, watching the fire that seemed to flicker in here, all the year round.

"I'm sorry about Tonks. I miss her, and you must miss her dreadfully."

"I do. I may not have been in love with her, but she still meant a great deal to me." Remus covered Hermione's free wrist with his large hand, tracing circles on the delicate skin. They drank their wine, drinking away the things they could not say.


	9. Hermione's Happiest Memory, Spring 2000

One of the biggest photographs in the collection was planted squarely in the middle of the rest of them. It had been framed in cedar and gold writing glittered amongst the scurrying figures that ran aimlessly, heads tilted back towards the sky. Harry leant forward to squint at the words. He recognised the looping scrawl before he processed the words, he'd seen that hand before, scribbled across hastily compiled essays.

_"Hermione Granger's Happiest Memory: Attempt One.  
Love, Remus.  
Christmas 2000"_

* * *

**The Burrow – Spring 2000**

Hermione was curled rather comfortably into the shabby sofa in the Weasley living room, nose buried deep into a book – a muggle one, for the first time in years. Pure pleasure reading – terribly indulgent. The doors to the garden were open in the kitchen and even in here she could feel that spring had finally sprung, warm air swirled around her ankles. She could smell cut grass and hear laughter coming from the garden – Hermione wasn't really focusing on the book so much as the joy of free time.

The Trio had decided to chance a break from the hunt for horcruxes and were staying in the heavily warded Weasley property for a long awaited weekend. It seemed everyone was here despite the risks.

Hermione's book closed with a snap before she even realised that someone had snatched it away from her. If it had been anyone but Remus she would have given them a good hexing. Instead, he flashed her that smile that so few got to see and she didn't even bother frowning.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" She asked, sitting up. She wanted to grab a hold of him, but there were so many people around that she didn't dare risk it.

"Come and see." Remus guided Hermione by the elbow out of the doors. She worried momentarily about their contact but then everyone knew they were good friends, and frankly, she thought, not a little unkindly, that most of them weren't half as observant as she was. Stood in the Weasleys' backyard were most of those currently living in the house, arranged into two groups, all looking rather confused – though not as confused as Hermione.

"We thought it was about time we did something to cheer you up – to reward you for all your hard work. And I thought you might be in need of some new happy memories, so I've done my best to teach them..." Remus grinned, as he drew out the suspense, "cricket!" Hermione gaped at him, the thought of wizards and cricket together was too odd to comprehend. "I remember you telling me how much you used to love it, and I remembered enough from my father, so I thought: why not? Might be fun." Remus waggled his eyebrows at her, looking unspeakably amused by the whole situation.

Hermione thought this might be the closest she had actually come to being rendered speechless. She had mentioned cricket to Remus a few times before, never with much emphasis, mainly about how her family used to play it on the beach in summer and how it had been the one normal thing her father and she had had in common once she started attending Hogwarts – they had always made a special occasion of it in the summers.

Before she could even formulate a reply, Remus was already bustling, coin in hand for the toss, gabbling about team captains: "Hermione and…" George stuck his hand in the air as fast as he could, just beating his twin, "George."

The group of people were in two teams, Hermione's consisted primarily of the girls with two exceptions: Ginny, Harry, Luna, Fleur (who appeared to be muttering French curses under her breath) and Arthur (who looked particularly enthused). George's team was made of the rest of the boys: Ron, Fred, Charlie; Bill, Neville and Dean. Remus was latched onto Hermione's side despite all of his bossing, so she could only assume he was on her team. She could feel that she was on the brink of uncontrollable giggles. As she watched Remus ordering the boys about, pointing with what appeared to be one of the wicket stumps at them rather threateningly, she felt arms link through hers, Ginny and Luna stood, framing her, looking just as content as she.

To say it was shambolic would have been an understatement. There was constant confusion; the concept of sports without magic was foreign to most of them. One or two members of the group lost interest in playing until fixed by Remus' glare.

Hermione found herself batting with Harry in the middle. It hadn't taken long for most of the team to get themselves out, but it had served her well as she died laughing at them. Arthur had looked absolutely thrilled with his attempt to connect bat with ball but forgot to run as was promptly run out by George, who was clearly a lot more clued up than he let on. Ginny had been the only one to make an impact so far, which was hardly surprising considering her career as a beater. She had walloped the ball to all corners of the yard whilst most of her siblings looked on in bemusement as they schlepped after it. It wasn't long before Ginny's reckless batting style gave way to a solid partnership between Remus and Hermione. They endured catcalls from the boys team to post a score that was never going to be beaten by the wizards.

The second half of the game passed quickly, the boys throwing their wickets away or being booted off the field by Remus, the self-entitled umpire, for using magic. The sun was low in the sky when victory was declared, the winning team making a spectacle of their win, running around the garden, arms outstretched while the losers looked on petulantly. Hermione found herself being swept up by Remus and thought for a brief moment that he might kiss her there under the open sky, but it seemed that sense took him before he could and they settled for a bear hug. Hermione noticed a similar exchange going on between Harry and Gin – maybe there was hope for them yet, she thought.

"A good day?" Remus asked her, as they trudged towards the house and to a certain bollocking from Molly for tracking in the dirt.

"The best, Remus," Hermione smiled at him, still giddy from the exercise, and wrapped her arm around his back – as friends would, "Thank you. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun."

"You're more than welcome, Hermione. I only hope that we taught the others a thing or two."

As they approached the kitchen door, they untwined their arms.

"Once more unto the breach." Remus murmured and Hermione laughed ruefully.


	10. The Observant Ones, May 2000

There was photo of Hermione and Ginny in their Grimmauld Place bedroom. They'd shared even when there were enough bedrooms to go around. Harry found himself reaching out for the picture of the two laughing girls who looked, he thought, absurdly young.

They were both lying on their backs on a bed, legs up against the wall at a ridiculous right angle. The figures were chatting away, occasionally reaching for a piece of the enormous chocolate bar between them. In some ways, this photo could have been taken at any point in the last twenty years or so. Ginny and Hermione had always been adamant about the need for their "girls' sessions".

His fingers trailed Hermione's familiar, untameable hair before crossing to his wife's smile. How young they had been.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – Spring 2000**

Hermione was, for once, not to be found in the library. She and Remus had actually gotten to a stage now where she enjoyed her time away from him. There was nothing negative about this, Hermione had realised after a few guilt ridden afternoons hidden away in her room when she could have been with him. It was nice to spend time alone, to touch up her nail polish, to take her time in eating a Cadbury's bar she did not have to share and to catch up on her reading. She had fallen woefully behind on her reading; she was only getting through a book a week, now that her library time was spent talking to her significant other instead. Hermione lost her train of thought, blushing at the thought of Remus as her 'significant other'. She bit her lip, frowned and forced her focus upon 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts'.

Hermione had read no more than a page when the door flung open – the prodigal roommate had returned. From the state of Ginny's lip gloss Hermione guessed that her friend had been with Harry. How the two of them thought their relationship was a secret was beyond her.

Ginny threw herself onto the foot of Hermione's bed, and the two girls sat in silence as Hermione studiously continued to read, punctuated only by Ginny's harrumphs. About five minutes elapsed before Hermione's, not inconsiderable, will finally snapped.

"Fine. What do you want?" Hermione snapped, as the book closed.

"Hermiiiiioneeee," Ginny picked at her chipped fingernail polish, deliberately avoiding eye contact, "we can tell each other anything, right?"

Hermione sighed, willing herself, patience, after all, was a virtue. "Of course we can, Gin."

"So, if I wanted to talk to you about… relationships?"

"There's nothing you can't talk to me about, you know I'm never going to judge you."

"I know, I know. You too, of course." There was another long pause as both girls stared at the wall and ceiling respectively.

"Oh for God's sakes, Ginny! Is this about you and Harry?" Hermione's patience finally ran out. Ginny blinked at her in utter surprise.

"You know about me and Harry?" Hermione could only laugh at how dumbstruck she looked and the laughter caught on. Hermione explained how obvious it had been: all the 'furtive' glances, the joint trips to fetch supplies (returning with mutually messy hair) and Ginny's increasingly mussed makeup.

"I'm so embarrassed! I can't believe, after all that, we were so obvious! Bloody hell," Ginny chewed on her lip – a habit Hermione was sure had been learnt from her – before she turned that mega-watt Weasley smile onto Hermione, "mind you: it's fantastic to be able to talk about it with you! It's been weirdly lonely, not being able to tell you about it."

Hermione's smile faltered at this. She'd almost forgotten for a moment how similar a situation she was in. She'd tried not admitting, even to herself, how much she missed being able to talk about her personal life. Though all she had to do, to squash that temptation, was to imagine the almighty freak-out that Ron and Harry would have when they found out. And they would, she knew, eventually have to find out. She shifted her attention back to her beaming friend.

"I'm pleased for you. Don't worry too much about everyone else. They'll be thrilled for you, but they probably won't work it out. Besides," Hermione couldn't help but tease, "Some of us are more observant than you give us credit for."

There was a sudden wicked twinkle in Ginny's eye but before she could open her mouth there was a knock at the door and Remus stuck his head in.

"Sorry, girls," Remus' gaze shifted nervously between the two girls, Ginny sat facing him and Hermione on her back looking at him upside down, book resting on her stomach and feet braced against the wall, completely unselfconscious. "I was wondering if either of you had heard from Kingsley today? I was hoping he might get back to us on Harry's madcap caper plan for Hogwarts next week…"

The girls shook their heads, smiles falling from their faces and Remus felt wretched. Remus' question brought the two girls back to earth with a bump. They'd decided the last unknown horcrux had to be Ravenclaw's Diadem (thanks to Luna), so they were going to go for it. Nagini would be the hardest, but they had to trust that an opportunity would present itself to kill the wretched familiar. Going to Hogwarts was incredibly risky, particularly now that Voldemort had had three years to brainwash the student body, but what else could be done? The entire Order of the Phoenix was going to descend on Hogwarts try to find the Diadem. It was almost certainly, one way or another, be the last stand. It had been coming for a while now. Time to fall or fly.

Hermione couldn't help but dread the day, not just for her own sake but for her friends' and for Remus. This time next week they might be all dead. Or, for the first time since she, Harry and Ron had been 11, they might be free.

Remus excused himself and left the room, but the gloom seemed to hang behind. Ginny decided then was the best time to reveal her news:

"You know, you're not the only one who's observant." Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her friend, "Don't think I haven't noticed."

Hermione panicked inwardly, while she tried to keep her voice level, "Noticed what?"

Ginny knew she was taking a gamble here. One of three things was going to happen: she was going to be wrong and look an utter prat and have to spend the next week (at which point it would either pale in comparison, or they would both be dead) making it up to her; Hermione was going to deny it to her dying day (which again, Ginny reasoned, might just be until next week) or Hermione was going to finally come clean, fresh from relief – much like Ginny had been not half an hour ago.

"You're shagging Lupin."

You could have heard a pin drop. Hermione's eyes had bugged out slightly, and if Ginny hadn't been so worried that she was going to get her arse hexed she would have laughed.

"How-what would make you- when did you lose-" Hermione gulped in a breath of air before composing herself: she'd made her decision now, for better or worse. Hermione smiled, the weight off her shoulders, however this went.

"How'd you guess?"

"Feminine intuition. Isn't that what you call it? It was nothing as obvious as with me and Harry, clearly, small things, like the way he looks at you when you're fussing over us – like there'd be a hole in the world if you weren't there, like he's afraid if he takes his eyes off you, you might disappear. You touch him more than anyone else," Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "not like that! I just mean that you touch his hand when he passes you things, stuff like that." Ginny trailed off, suddenly self-aware of how much attention she seemed to have been paying to the couple.

"Wow. Your attention to detail...you surprise me Ginny!"

"I think I surprise myself!" And with that quip, all seemed right in their friendship again, as though something had been missing the last few months that neither had noticed was missing. The two talked, after silencing the room, about their respective relationships for hours. Harry and Ginny had been seeing each other for about three months now – Remus and Hermione for seven months now, the number surprised Hermione as it slipped past her lips.

They talked about how they thought the boys would take the news about her seeing their former professor: the consensus was 'not well'. Hermione insisted, to Ginny's slight doubt, that she had never had a crush on him, while she was his student – the whole Lockhart debacle put an end to that. Also, she felt quite strongly that Remus would never have started a relationship with her, if he had ever thought she might have been harbouring some long dormant school girl fancy about him.

The dreaded question came late in the conversation, and was offered with such little judgement that Hermione hardly noticed the issue had been aired.

"What about the whole age gap thing?" Ginny asked before popping another square of Cadbury's milk chocolate in her mouth. Between the two of them the enormous bar had dwindled to almost nothing.

"What about it?" Hermione replied, not in the least defensive, "The way I see it, neither of us care – why should anyone else? He's hardly doddery, trust me," Hermione grinned salaciously, to Ginny's approval, "and frankly we seem to be a perfect match in every other way." And with that, the topic was left.


	11. Author Note

**AN: This story in back in action! I really hope that some old readers will come back, as well as some new ones! As the AN states at the beginning, I have a good number of chapters ready to come out, now that I've finished tidying up what had already been published. The first new chapter will be going up tonight (London time).  
Please do R and R, as that's what keeps me writing!**

**Enjoy!**


	12. Quiet Before the Storm, June 2000

The next photo that Harry fixes onto is stunningly familiar, not only for the number of times he has seen this photo, but for how similar it was to the same one that his parents had featured in. It was a photo taken of the Order of the Phoenix, as it stood in June 2000, the night before the final battle.

Harry's eyes scan over the photograph, seeking out those familiar faces, reminding himself of all those brave souls, both with us and dearly departed. In the front row are the 'young' ones, though they hadn't felt young in years, at that stage: Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, Angelina, George, Fred, Percy, Lee, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Susan, Ernie and Hannah. They'd all graduated from the DA straight into the Order.

In the back row were most of the so call seniors, including McGonagall, Aberforth, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Kingsley, Dedalus and Hagrid. Professor Flitwick was to the side, thankfully, or they'd never have spotted him.

It was painfully obvious, Harry thought, how the balance had tipped towards the younger members since the Order photo in his fifth year.

In the very centre of the photograph are the Trio. Next to Hermione is Remus, where she had practically dragged him from his usual bystander position. Their hands were laced together – he had never noticed that before. Harry wondered, though, if perhaps he had noticed, at the time, but chosen to ignore it, in order to smooth the waters. His memory isn't as sharp as it used to be.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place – June 2000**

They were getting ready to go to Hogwarts. It was hard to associate that place of childhood bliss with the sense of doom that seemed to be felt by everyone – that they were all going off to war, to almost certain death. Remus shook himself slightly, no need to be quite so negative, old chap.

Remus looked over the sitting room where everyone was sat. There was an attempt to force normalcy that night. Usually everyone would have splintered off by now, Harry to go and snog his clandestine girlfriend (Remus suspected), or play a match of chess with said girlfriend's brother; the twins would be up to their usual mischief, perhaps planning for new Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes; and of course Hermione and he would usually be about half way into a good bottle of wine by now. But not tonight. Tonight was a night for togetherness.

The small group that were assembled in Grimmauld Place had eaten the last of Mrs Weasley's 'take out' meals in the kitchen in relative silence. Mr and Mrs Weaseley had stopped in briefly before going back to feed the rest of their brood and Order members who were spending the night before the storm in the burrow. Remus was a little jealous. For as many good memories as there seemed to be here, in this _grim old place_, there were twice as many bad ones.

Remus was feeling a little pessimistic about their upcoming mission, to say the least. The plan was essentially that they had no plan. It had been decided that the last horcrux was almost certainly Ravenclaw's Diadem – which had been lost for years. The Order was going to storm Hogwarts (if that was the right word), driving out the Death Eaters within whilst trying to find this blasted Diadem. Luna, bless her, had come up with some scheme that involved the Grey Lady, which the older members were sceptical about, they had learnt not to trust ghosts. It was almost certainly going to be the last stand for the Order, one way or the other. Remus couldn't tell whether or not that was a good thing, any more.

When the Grimmauld crew had all relocated to the sitting room, someone, almost certainly a Weasley, had poured out some firewhisky – the good stuff, too – but no one was really drinking. The excuse had been that they wanted to be on top form for the next day, but Remus thought it more likely that if they started, they might not be able to stop again. Instead they sat, talking about dull, surprisingly pleasant things. Pets had come up at one point.

Hermione was the first to rise from the sofa, where she was squashed between Ron and Harry (who was in turn flanked by Ginny). As she made her way out of the room, she stopped by everyone, saying goodnight and hugging or kissing them on the cheek as she went. It was the type of evening farewell rarely seen outside of Christmas. They all watched her say her goodbyes, somehow entranced. When she got to Remus, he had to force himself to keep his hands on the armrests, gripping the material tightly. She leant over and kissed him high on his cheekbone, giving his hand a squeeze. As she stepped back he saw that his other hand was on her shoulder, of its own accord. Self-control was not something he had in great supply around Hermione.

Ginny was the next one up, following Hermione suddenly. She waved goodnight to her brothers and friends before chasing her friend up the stairs, her light feet surprisingly loud on the stairs. Once the girls were gone, the mood shifted from some kind of nostalgia to outright doom and gloom and the men all dismissed themselves, heading off their separate ways at last.

Remus wandered into the kitchen, thinking that a hot chocolate was probably overdue, despite the warm night. He summoned the milk (proper, full fat milk – a heart attack was the least of his worries right now) and made himself his usual. Except that he made two. He hardly noticed that he'd done it, until he was walking up to her door. He didn't stop to think about Ginny, or how this might look, just knocked and went in. Except that the room was empty. Neither girl was in sight. The bathroom was dark. Remus had to stamp out the sudden swell of despair. There would be a perfectly reasonable explanation, he reassured himself.

Remus continued his ascent to his room – that which used to belong to Sirius, one of the highest in the house. He spilt a little more of the cocoa now, onto the threadbare, already stained mushroom carpet, even as he tried to calm himself. Sure enough, when he opened his bedroom door he found her. His heart went straight from his mouth down to his stomach in a split second, and the hot chocolate almost hit the floor at the same rate.

Hermione was reclined on his bed wearing nothing but one of his blue shirts. Her legs were crossed and at the end of them were her high black court shoes, which he loved. Her head and shoulders were propped up on the pillows and Hermione was biting her lower lip. This was pretty far out of her comfort zone – and despite how appealing she looked, Remus could tell that she was nervous.

Remus smiled at Hermione as he walked over to the bedside table and set the mugs down, never mind those now, before he sat beside her, one arm resting on her other side, framing her.

"Merlin, Hermione. You look beautiful. Far too good for the likes of me." Is all he could bring himself to say. She smiled at him, broadly, relaxing as he said all the right things. She circled her arms around his neck and kissed him for all he was worth. There are things Remus wanted to tell her, ask her, from the mundane to the profound, but Hermione was squirming under him, high heels catching on his trouser legs, and they all seemed to pop out of his head. As she leant back to breathe, he moved forwards, deepening the kiss, before pulling back to allow her her precious oxygen, biting her lower lip in a strange echo of what she had been doing earlier. She moaned and her chest rolled into him. She would be his undoing.

One of her legs was hitched over his hip now, and he'd thrown one of his over her waist, to straddle her. Wolfish nature was starting to emerge and he found himself pressing himself down on top of her, pressing them both down deep into the mattress. Moony was howling inside of his head now, had been since he saw Hermione lying on _his_ bed, in _his_ clothes smelling like sugar and firewhisky and longing and _him_.

Hermione broke away from his mouth and planted small, shockingly innocent kisses down his neck, small hands working at his belt. Moony could see that gorgeous expanse of white, creamy neck stretched out before him and before Remus knew what he was doing, he was kissing her neck with abandon – except he wasn't kissing, was he? Hermione started keening, not that pleasant, cat-like sound he so loved to draw out of her, and not crying, but there was something deeply troubling about the noise. It took another moment for Remus to regain control again, and wrench himself away. Away from her neck, where he had sunk his teeth.

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**AN: Yes! I'm back with evil cliff hanger. All is right with the world. Next chapter will go up tomorrow - so long as the reviews keep coming ;)**


	13. A warm, still night, June 2000

Hermione held her neck, feeling for the damage. The entire join, when neck met shoulder was throbbing, but thankfully, it seemed, not bleeding – he hadn't broken the skin. She couldn't understand what had just happened. Remus was crouched over on the far side of bed, almost in a foetal position, hands cradling his head. It scared her, she realised.

"Remus?" She asked, reaching out to for his shoulder, even as some part of her brain told her to keep away. He flinched slightly from her touch, but she was persistent, gripping his shoulder until he faced her. It was her turn to flinch, though she masked it as well as she could: Remus' eyes were tinged with a savage gold and his breathing ragged. Instead of shrinking away from him, as instinct demanded, Hermione sidled closer, sliding her arms around his shoulders, holding him as his breathing steadied, "It's quite alright," she told him firmly, in what Harry had dubbed her McGonagall voice, "no harm done. It's just me, and you could never frighten me."

Remus's fingers curled into her back and he let out one last shuddering breath before he pulled back from her and she could see that his eyes had returned to their usual hazel. He looked so ashamed, Hermione thought, and all she wanted to do was hold him again, but she settled to lay her hand against his face. She smiled at him as her fingers traced their usual patterns on his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. You were just so lovely, and then I'm not as focused as usual and the wolf was right there on the surface and I wasn't able to keep him out, and if he'd, if I'd hurt you, oh God, Hermione-" Hermione cut him off with a quick kiss on the mouth.

"It's alright. Everyone slips up once in a while, and I'm fine," Remus looked at her warily, as though she might try to bolt, "I'm here, and I'm here for the long haul." Remus' arms were around her again, and she felt her previous, amorous mood returning.

"What about Ginny? Won't she notice you're gone?" Remus kept himself talking, asking the questions that Moony had been suppressing earlier. Hermione kissed his mouth again.

"She's with Harry." Another kiss.

"Are they...?" And another, she punctuates the conversation with her little affections.

"Yes. For months now." He kissed her this time.

"You're amazing, Hermione."

"Right back at you." Hermione smiled again as she felt the tension ebbing away. But even as the immediate distress evaporated, Hermione found that original nagging fear still in her gut. Even as she thought about it, she sees that Remus has spotted it.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" They both knew that he wasn't asking about what just happened. Hermione hesitated. She'd made it this far, without letting the mask slip, she was afraid that if she started to spill then she'd never be able to stop. Remus' eyes were boring into hers, though, and this is Remus, if she can't talk to him, then who can she talk to? She relents.

"No. I'm so afraid, Remus. I can't even think about tomorrow. I have to just keep thinking in small steps, like make sure that I eat enough carbohydrates, and have a wash tonight, because God knows when I'll next get a chance," it was Remus' turn to comfort, and he stroked her hair as she rambled, "and I keep thinking I must tell the boys that I love them. And you. I wanted to have one more perfect night with you. And, oh God, I'm red and blotchy now. This wasn't supposed to be happening like this." Hermione fought off the tears, for vanity's sake if nothing else.

"There's plenty of time, still Hermione. And you look beautiful, as ever. You told the boys you love them, and Ginny too. And I am right here. I have no intention of going anywhere, tonight or otherwise – and you're not going anywhere either," he lifted Hermione's chin, "are you?" Before he let her answer he was kissing her, and things were moving again.

Things were slower, this time around. While they were both still kneeling, Hermione's deft fingers undid the buttons of Remus' shirt, as his hands slid up hers. She pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, let her hands slide down his arms as he softly kissed the mark on her neck. She didn't let herself fuss about how it looked. Nothing mattered but this.

_Remember his arms, those muscles that encircle_. She loved his arms. Wizards didn't have as nice arms as muggle men, Hermione had found. Magic was not conducive to muscles, alas. Remus with his part muggle heritage was still inclined to using his hands rather than his wand.

Hermione returned to his half undone belt, tugging it through the loops of his trousers quickly, drawing a smiling kiss from Remus as he returned the favour, slowly undoing the buttons with one hand, as his other drew circles on her lower back as it descended lower at a frustratingly slow pace. Taking things, literally, into her own hands, she slid her hand, flat against his stomach, down the front of his, now exposed boxers. She was rewarded with a strangled gasp from Remus, who pulled the last few buttons of her shirt off, dropping his head to her chest, kissing that sweet spot between her breasts. Hermione leant her head back, granting him further access, even as she pumped her hand up and down his shaft at a teasing pace.

Two could play at this game: Remus' long fingers skimmed past her centre to her inner thigh, and back again, fluttering back and forth before she spoke those little words which always did away with his self-control: "Remus, please!" His fingers finally came to rest at her centre, and she rocked away against him, matching his own pace.

_Remember the taste of his skin_. He tasted simply like salt, completely irresistible. She let her eyes flutter close as his fingers stroked in and out, feeling the pressure build, that unforgettable burn.

_Remember to breathe_. She was getting close, could feel the tightness starting to unspool in her groin. Not yet, Hermione thought, this had to last. She pulled away from Remus, ignoring his surprise, and planting her hands firmly on his chest pushed him onto his back. They hadn't done this before, this usually felt too wanton for Hermione. But not tonight. She straddled him, and watched his face, full of wonder, as she lowered herself onto him at last.

Remus' hands slid up from her small waist to her shoulder blades with every rise and fall. He looked so transfixed with her that she thought her heart might burst at the sight. This is what making love meant, she realised, aware of her own corniness. Hermione leant forwards to kiss him and he held her there.

"Love you, 'Mione." He whispered into her hair._ Remember his voice and adulations_.

She leant back, arching herself as far back as she could go, rolling her hips to their own rhythm. They were so close now.

_Remember his hands, those long fingers that span your waist, and the planes of your shoulders_.

Her breath was starting to catch.

"Remus!"

Hermione rolled off of Remus after the wave had passed. The both were feeling positively boneless, and far too hot. They lay side by side, mutually collecting their breath.

"And a good time was had by all." Remus chortled. Hermione gave a snort of laughter and hit him playfully, leaving her hand where it fell, on his chest. She was glad that his mood had recovered from the episode earlier. She knew they were going to have to discuss that at somepoint. The roar of fear that had been hanging around her head the last few days had subsided, temporarily at least, to a distant buzzing. The night was far too warm for the two of them to hold eachother, but Remus broached the gap between them by taking that hand of hers in his.

Hermione could feel sleep beginning to tug at her, drawing her eyelids closed, like curtains on the long day. "I should go." The words hung in the air and she wished she could take them back, no matter how much they were true. Remus didn't get go of her hand.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"What would the others say? Hmm? If they woke up and found me in your bed?" Remus pondered that a minute – she could tell he was thinking from the way he started to drum his fingers against the back of her hand.

"Is Ginny really likely to go back to your room tonight?"

Hermione thought about how reluctant she was to leave Remus' bed and imagined that Ginny would be feeling about the same – but then Ginny had less reason to fear the news of her relationship getting out.

"You're probably right. Also: Ginny knows about us."

"What?" Remus, looked a little more awake now, "How?"

"It's alright. She's known for ages now. She's good with it, with us, I mean. She thinks we make a good pair." Hermione nudged Remus' leg with a big toe and waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, prompting one of his fantastic, deep belly-laughs. She felt her insides curl with pleasure and decided she was cool enough to get closer now. Hermione laid her head on Remus' chest and gazed at the stars outside of his window as she listened to his breathing deepen.

"I wish we could just tell everyone. I would, if I didn't think it would give a bunch of them collective heart-attacks."

"Probably not a good idea," Remus murmured, voice thick with sleep, "tonight of all nights."

_Remember, Hermione thought, your hand in his_.

Hermione felt her eyes drift close.

_Remember how it feels to fall asleep in his arms, on a warm, still night_.

**AN: I will try and post tomorrow, but it's going to be a full day/night, so you might have to wait until Saturday! Hope you enjoyed this, because the next three to five chapters are going to be a tad more dramatic. Brace yourself, folks. Read and Review - otherwise the plot bunnies get it!**


	14. Beginning of the End, June 2000

The only things on this wall which weren't strictly photographs were a series of framed newspapers – collector's editions of the Daily Prophet, to be exact. Each had a rather glamorous and almost certainly fabricated image of one of the members of the Order behind the emblazoned words: Victory at Hogwarts.

Harry skipped over his own likeness, and that of his wife saucily peering over her shoulder, a pose he'd never seen her strike in real life (amidst an apparent gale that was causing her hair to blow all over the place). Hermione's was stunning, she had her wand at her side, her hair loose (and too blowing in a mysterious gust of wind) and she, even strictly platonic Harry had to admit, gorgeous, if terrifying. Remus' picture was the most obviously fake of all, as there was no trace of his usual humility, just fire in his eyes.

* * *

**Hogwarts – June 2000**

There was an almighty roar as masonry crumbled from the side of Hogwarts, where it had stood been for nearly a thousand years. There were bellows from below, as the defenders scrabbled from beneath the debris. One of the animated knights was not quick enough in moving away and was crushed to bits – indistinguishable from the rocks that had flattened him.

There was a stampede into the castle, and Hermione felt someone seize her hand as they charged into the fray. The Death Eaters had almost broken through McGonagall's defences and soon it would be down to every man and woman to defend the castle by their wands. She wasn't quite sure where she was being led, but saw a flash of red hair and reached her free hand to bring him through. It was no huge shock when they popped out on the main staircase and she found herself holding hands with both Harry and Ron. They always seemed to find one another.

Harry led them up the stairs, Hermione thought they were probably headed for the Ravenclaw tower, where he hoped to find the Grey Lady – Helena Ravenclaw. Hermione could see other members of the Order everywhere, running in all sorts of directions, almost aimless. Please God, thought Hermione for the umpteenth time, protect those I love.

Hermione suddenly found herself falling, as though the very steps beneath her feet would give way – Hogwarts' unpredictable yet surprisingly stable moving staircases were coming to a halt. Harry's hand on her shoulder kept pulling her upwards, aginst the momentum, fighting against the throngs of students headed the opposite way, beng led by the junior members of Dumbledore's Army, which had been kept alive in their absence, who were taking them to the secret passage to the Hog's Head. No one under age was allowed to stay, officially, although Neville had given up trying to convince the fifth years and over.

The staircase lurched again and this time they were all falling forwards. Hermione found herself in a heap with Harry, Ron and Luna. Members of the Order were all flooding onto the landing. How did they all know to catch them here, Hermione couldn't help but wonder. Kingsley was the first to speak; he'd grown into the space that Dumbledore had vacated better than anyone could have wished for.

"What do you need us to do now, Potter?" he asked, more abruptly than he might have under didn't circumstances.

"I need time. As much of it as you can give me – we need to find the Diadem."

Kingsley looked sceptical but told him he would do his best – the Order would.

"We should go check out the Chamber of Secrets-"

"It won't be there, Ron."

"Not for that! I thought some of those great big Basilisk teeth might come in handy for Hufflepuff's Cup and in case you find the Diadem."

"Right. Good plan. You go and do that, I'll go to Ravenclaw's common room."

"Twins! Go help Minerva secure the grounds," And they were off, sprinting down one of the lesser damaged staircases, Kingsley kept shouting orders and the group dwindled. Ginny was assigned, with any members of staff who she could find along the way, to evacuate students from the castle, any way she could think of. Hermione felt a sudden reluctance to leave this group, this place. She felt Remus somewhere behind her. What if this was the last time they were all together?

Flitwick had just started to scamper off to the clock tower, when there was a tremendous explosion from below. Everyone rushed to the edge of the landing. Peering over the banister, they could see the smoke settling, round about where the statue of the hump-backed witch had once been. Now there poured out Death Eaters, at least a dozen. The Order members froze. They hadn't anticipated them getting in so fast. Hermione heard herself speaking before she even realised she was.

"We need to plug the hole. We can't let any more get in!"

"I'll go." She knew he would volunteer. She turned towards him and saw the smallest glance he threw her way. He wasn't getting rid of her that easily.

"I'm coming with you." Ron and Harry seemed startled. Ron and Remus were both protesting, though Harry looked resigned. She heard him say, quietly, "One of the old guard, one of the new." Kingsley nodded in assent.

"Hermione, you mustn't. It isn't safe," Remus started, stepping towards her.

"It isn't anywhere – I'll be safest with you. Besides," she said brusquely as she pulled out her wand, "This is not a discussion."

As she moved to lead Remus away, down the steps, she took in the sight of Harry and Ron looking distraught. She couldn't help but throw her arms around them, planting kisses on both of their cheeks.

"Please, be safe! I love you both. Don't worry about me." Hermione fought to stop herself from crying and turned away, towards Remus. She took his hand in both of hers, not caring what the others thought, not now. He look flustered for just a moment before he wove his fingers through hers and led the way.

"Let's go."

The going was quicker now, now that they were headed with the tide. There were screams now, that made Hermione's stomach curdle, mixed in with general noise of panic. Someone was trying to lug their trunk down the stairs and Hermione's battle was nearly over before it had begun when she was cut up by it. It was only Remus' strong grip and lupine reflexes that saved her. Neither batted an eye.

As they neared the bottom of the stairs, Remus overtook Hermione, dragging her on. She could see that the masked figures were splintering off. She didn't know whether or not to be pleased – she was sure they couldn't cope with all of them, but she was afraid what they would get up to out of sight. She couldn't dwell on that, she heard a particularly vicious scream cut through all the others and could see the intense red glow ahead: _cruciatus_. Remus let go of her hand and was charging in to the rescue, Hermione close behind.

Hermione didn't catch the spell Remus used to blast the Death Eater off his feet, was too distracted by another who was hanging a Hufflepuff in mid air with his wand. Hermione felt the petrificus totalus spell leave her lips effortlessly, but found herself scrabbling to levitate the boy safely to the ground. His feet had just touched the ground when she heard "_diffindo_!" from behind her, and felt a slice open in her shoulder. Stupid, she reprimanded herself, she wasn't focusing. She whipped round and stunned him, thankfully before he could deflect. Ouch, Hermione thought to herself, she wished she had some dittany to hand.

Hermione crashed into someone and was relieved to find it was Remus. It looked like it was pretty much just the two of them now, plus eight or so Death Eaters. The Hufflepuff boy and a few others were picking themselves up and running – the trunk had been abandoned now. Remus took her hand again. The Death Eaters were approaching slowly from the ruins of the statue, trying to menace them, she thought. Remus looked up and Hermione dared a quick glance at what had caught his attention: there was a large wooden beam across the ceiling here, the only place there was such fortification. Remus glanced at her and wordlessly she understood what was about to happen. She tightened her grip on her wand and thought of safe places, shield charm on the tip of her tongue and Remus lifted his wand above their heads.

"Reducto!"

**AN: R&R please! If you'll lucky there'll be a chapter up tomorrow night (if there are enough reviews!), otherwise probably Monday. Hope you're enjoying it all!**


	15. The things we do, June 2000

_What's just happened? _

Hermione had no idea whether or not she'd been knocked unconscious. One moment she had been standing with Remus, casting the protego charm, watching the ceiling cave in, next: she was sprawled on the rubble. She scrabbled to her feet, feeling the hot trickle of blood on her cheek. Her hands burnt from the scrapes. Where was Remus, was the only clear thought in her head.

"Remus!" Her ears were buzzing oddly. She couldn't tell if it was from the fall or if someone had thrown a muffliato over the area. She couldn't hear a reply, amongst the shouts, screams and shocks reverberating around the castle.

The hallway was blocked. Right where they had been standing. Her thoughts began to race ahead, even as she tried to tamp them down. Don't assume anything, Hermione, you've learnt that if nothing else, she told herself.

She managed to get herself across the bricks and to the relative safety of the wall. Hermione's brain whirred, summoning up the years of memories she had built up, walking around these halls, and from studying the Marauders' Map. If she was remembering correctly, some of the class rooms along the main corridor on this floor had doors between them. Of course it did, she confirmed. This was the floor of the blasted forbidden corridor. As good a place as any to be trapped like this.

With these thoughts, she opened the door besides her which, thankfully, opened inwards – letting her and the debris in. It was the trophy room, and there on the other side, if memory served, was the armoury. Fitting, Hermione couldn't help but think. She raced on through. Sure enough in the next hallway she found herself flanked by suits of armour. She kept moving, but a thought took hold in her head and as she got to the far door, she whipped her wand out. She'd never tried this one before, but having just seen McGonagall perform it she was confident: Hermione was nothing if not a quick study: "Piertotum Locomotor!"

There was silence for a moment, and Hermione thought that perhaps she hadn't quite performed the wand stroke properly. There was a loud, echoing clank, as the knights all dropped the points of their swords to the stone floor at once. Their heads turned in unison towards her and she repeated her professor's words, "protect us! Do your duty to our school!" and all at once they were off their pedestals and marching towards her.  
Best to lead from the front, Hermione couldn't help but think – she didn't want to get caught behind this lot.

Opening the door she found the hallway that she had originally left, except about fifty metres further down – she could see the pile of rubble which had been blocking her way. She stepped aside to let the soldiers past. Now, where was Remus? Even as she thought it, she heard his bellow. A small part of her unclenched in relief, she knew he hadn't been struck by the stones. She crossed the hallway, to the closest door. Charms classroom, she knew this room well. But the handle wouldn't turn.

"Bugger!" Hermione nearly tried kicking in the door before she got a hold of herself, remembering that she had a wand for such thing, "Bombarda!" The door was wrenched from its hinges and fell inwards (Hermione felt a wrench of guilt, imagining the fit that Flitwick would have). Guilt was forgotten instantly, when she took in the scene in front of her. Two Death Eaters were in the room, apparently terrorising a group of children – no more than third years, she'd have guessed. Remus had just hit the ground.

One of the Death Eaters spun around at her entrance and Hermione was immediately on the defensive. She couldn't tell who it was – didn't know why she was bothering to try and work it out – but it was certainly a woman. As Hermione found herself ducking and protego-ing her way across the room, she tried to see what was happening with Remus and the students, but didn't seem to be able to without getting herself killed.

It was as though a sudden lull of silence fell across the room, as Hermione heard those evil words slither out of the other Death Eater's mouth: "_crucio_"

There was a heart wrenching scream from Remus, and she saw his figure thrash on the ground as his opponent approached him. Hermione was so distracted by Remus' distress that one of her Death Eater's spells finally found the mark. Hermione was sent flying back, crashing into the desks that were against the walls, hearing rather than feeling the wood splinter under her. She knew she should be focused but she could not help but look over to Remus again. The Death Eater stood over him now, and Remus had stopped screaming. For a terrible moment she thought he had been killed – it was only when the masked figure hissed another curse and she heard an awful snapping sound that her lover showed any more signs of life.

A red mist descended suddenly and Hermione found herself slashing at the air in front of her opponent, snarling the words of Severus Snape, words she hadn't thought she'd remember, let alone known how to cast. The woman in front of her dropped her wand and reached grasping hands to her throat – Hermione could not see it for the black of the woman's garb, but knew that blood was rushing out. Before even stopping to contemplate her next move, she turned the wand onto Remus' attacker.

"Avada Kedavra!"

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**AN: Apologies that this wasn't up sooner! Life got in the way, alas. Next chapter will be up soon. Another two or so chapters to come of the battle, and then onto the aftermath...**

**R&R, please!**


	16. For those we love, June 2000

"Avada Kedavra!" she screamed at the Death Eater, even as he fell, twisting into the lurid light.

The room fell into relative silence. The students were sniffling. Remus's breathing was hard and ragged. Hermione could feel her hands and knees shaking. She had just killed not just one, but two people. In place of the immense guilt she had anticipated, though, was a small sense of satisfaction which was more uncomfortable than anything else she could have felt. Remus groaned and she rushed towards him, all introspection forgotten.

"Remus, oh God, what did he do to you?" She asked him, somewhat pointlessly, she felt, as she pulled his head onto her lap, "Are you alright?"

Remus was still trying to steady his breathing and it took him a while to get out the words, "Thank you. Hermione, thank you," his voice was thick and hoarse, "I knew you'd come." The words threatened to break her heart.

Hermione was cradling his top half in her arms even as the students crept closer to them. She could see now that they were probably not even third years.

"Why are you still in the castle?" Hermione felt her voice getting a little shrill.

"The Carrows caught us trying to leave and brought us here," said one girl who stepped forwards from the rest, Hermione noted the Gryffindor robes, "these two were keeping us here. One of them mentioned a Greyback…" the girl lost her courage here and stepped back into the throng. Hermione suppressed a shudder.

"Well, he won't have you now," she looked around the room at the shape of the two Death Eaters, "these are the Carrows, then?"

"No, well, one of them – the sister – is. I don't know the other man." A boy piped up this time.

Hermione raised her wand once again and murmured the revealing charm. The mask slid off of the man's face and her breath hitched. She had even less qualms about having killed him now. It was Antonin Dolohov, he who'd pursued her that night in the Ministry of Magic.

"Right, Remus, I know you're in pain, but we need to get up."

"I can't."

"Honestly, Remus, you can and you have to."

"No, really, I don't think I can," he insisted, continuing before she could argue, "He broke my leg."

"Oh." Hermione said, simply. She couldn't very well verbalise what was in her head, which was along the lines of: "_shit_", over and over again – particularly when there were children present. Speaking of those children, what were they to do with them? The passage out to the Hog's Head was almost certainly closed by now.

"Right, first things first," Hermione started talking, fearing that if she didn't soon then she'd never be able to, "we need to get you up, and for that we need a splint."

One of the boys cleared his throat and pointed over towards the splintered desks that Hermione had landed on earlier. Christ, she thought, she hadn't even felt that, but she was going to be sore tomorrow.

"Perfect! Thank you..."

"Dominic."

"Thank you, Dominic," Hermione was cradling Remus' head by now so was loathe to get up herself, "would you mind fetching me two pieces of straight, even pieces of wood?" The boy nodded and set off, stepping around the adults.

"Right, then. Why don't you all introduce yourselves?" And the remaining five students all did so. Two were Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, one Ravenclaw and, perhaps most surprisingly of all, Dominic was a Slytherin. The boy brought back two pieces of wood that were perfect for the task. What an odd group they were, thought Hermione. She thanked Dominic and set to binding the splint to Remus' leg.

"Dominic," she kept talking, trying to smooth things over, keep anyone (particularly herself) from panicking, "if you don't mind me asking: is one of your parents a muggle?"

The Slytherin looked surprised, though the other students did not, and nodded at Hermione.

"Don't worry. I'm muggleborn myself. I've never met another witch or wizard who ever knew what a splint was." She smiled at him, trying to set him at ease. The splint was set.

The Gryffindor girl piped up again: "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"

"Yes. I am. And this poor chap is Remus Lupin. He used to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor a while ago." Remus waved his hand in feebly.

"Mum told me all about you. You and Harry Potter," the others were looking twitchy at this, "she says that you and him and the others are the only chance we've got, against _him_."

"Your mum sounds clever. I hope she's right."

But the bolshy girl was not to be deterred: "My Mum's always right."

"Well, I won't argue then."

Hermione was already thinking of what to do next. She couldn't just leave the students here like sitting ducks, God forbid that Greyback come to get them. Nor, though, could she take them with her. She was going to have a hard enough time trying to drag Remus along, without having to protect five underage wizards. No, they would have to stay here.

"Right. Everyone into Flitwick's office, please!" Hermione laid Remus down and herded them up the steps at the back of the classroom. Once in, she explained to them what was going to happen: she was going to lock the room up, silence it and conceal it from any unfriendly eyes. They were not to try and leave. They were not to make any noise. They were not to let anyone in, even if it was her. Did they understand? There was a general nodding of heads.

"Good. Now, I will come for you, at the end. You won't need to let me in, I'll be able to open the room myself. Be safe now." Hermione turned to leave, but felt a tug on her robes. It was the Hufflepuff girl pulling her into a hug. Hermione, not usually much of a hugger, obliged and the other five fell in. She felt herself getting quite choked up.

"I promise I'll be back. I promise." She shouldn't vow such things, she knew, particularly in these circumstances, but she couldn't stop herself. Giving the group one last squeeze, she pulled away, feeling their little hands holding on to her. Those tears that had been threatening spilled over and she had to wipe her eyes quickly, hoping they didn't see her weakness. The last she saw of their little faces as she closed the door was Dominic and the bossy Gryffindor holding hands and that was enough to set her off completely.

Hermione was snuffling all through her spells and could feel the extra power that was going into the enchantments thanks to her heightened protective instincts. There, Hermione thought, that was the best that anyone could do under the circumstances. Unless the witch or wizard were _specifically_ looking for that door, their glaze would slip right over it. And if they should find it? Then they would still have to undo all the charms, which would take them an age. Please be safe, she willed.

She turned to Remus, who hadn't moved from where she had left him. Worry built up in her again. He was so pale. She needed to get him to the Hospital Wing.

**AN: R&R if you want to see the next chapter ;) Evil, yes, but necessary on my part! **


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